


Belonging

by Anonymous



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Affection, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:18:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Spot has quite the secret





	Belonging

The bed creaked as Racetrack rolled onto his side. 

With a sigh, he reached out, not ready to face the morning sun. His arm landed on Spot’s form and he hugged him, tucking his head neatly above Spot’s. Eyes still closed, Race hummed a little as his fingers ran up and down Spot’s back, a need to stay as they were forever. 

As his hand roamed down onto the blanket, Race wasn’t sure where it was headed next, the wooden wall a familiar comfort on his fingertips. His fingers dropped and Race latched onto something that was soft. 

Lifting his head, Race cracked his eyes open, tugging at the foreign object. A rounded shape came out first and Race shifted a little as he pulled out a doll made of rags from its trapped confines between the wall and the bed. Glancing down between Spot and the doll, Race bit back the smile that threatened its way onto his face, tucking the worn doll between Spot and himself. 

While Spot seemed to be in a deep slumber, Race watched with amusement as Spot grabbed onto the doll, holding it close to his chest and ducked his head. Spot’s breathing hadn’t changed, his face still gentle, relaxed, making Race wish he could paint this scene. 

He ran a hand along Spot’s face, shuffling back in to their earlier position and a smile danced across his face. He wasn’t sure how long he was watching before Spot started to stir, his blinks slow and steady as he met Race’s eyes. 

“Morning,” Spot slurred and Race grinned at him. 

“Morning, Spotty.”

Spot laughed a little at this, turning his gaze downward before his eyes widened and he took to almost laying on top of the doll. 

“Uh…” Spot shook his head, refusing to meet Race’s eyes. “It’s just...I mean…”

“I got a blanket back in Manhattan,” Race gently interrupted. “Don’t need it as much anymore, but some nights...it’s nice to have.” He shrugged, despite wanting to say how much he understood. How much he cared.

Spot sighed, tugging the doll out from underneath him as he rolled onto his back. He studied the doll for a moment, picking at the threads sticking out. “His name is Clara.”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Race blurted out, his heart stuttering when Spot glared at him. 

“No. It’s _his_ name.” The emphasis in Spot’s voice said more than enough and Race wasn’t going to argue. 

“Okay.” Race nodded, finding the name more fitting by the second as he repeated it in his mind. 

He almost wished he had a doll of his own, watching as Spot fiddled with the top of its head. Race never thought about naming his blanket, though he supposed if he really wanted to, he had a few names on his mind.

“You don’t need to hide it. I’m sure lots of your newsies got things of their own they still hold onto,” Race commented, head propped on one hand.

Spot blushed at this, setting Clara on the bed between him and Race. “Suppose. It’s just habit. My old man did a number on me after…” Spot stopped then, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before shaking his head. “Maybe someday I’ll show ‘em.”

“When you’re ready,” Race reassured, his hand moving to Spot’s shoulder, but not quite touching. Not until Spot nodded, shifting closer to Race. 

Squeezing Spot’s shoulder, Race leaned in, placing a small kiss on Spot’s cheek. If Spot smiled, Race missed it as Spot pushed his face into his pillow, letting out a small groan.

“Don’t wanna go out today,” he said into the pillow, his words muffled on the edges. “Let’s just stay here.”

“You gotta pay to stay here,” Race sighed, taking initiative by throwing the blanket off of them and getting to his feet. “ _We_ gotta pay.”

Spot scowled before sitting up, hugging Clara to his chest as he watched Race get ready. “You’re lucky you woke up first today.” 

Race responded by throwing one of Spot’s shirts at him and Race laughed as Spot left the shirt hanging on his head. 

“Fine,” Spot relented, tucking Clara under his pillow before pulling his shirt on. 

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Race put on his vest quickly before resting his hands on the bed, leaning close to Spot as he worked on the buttons on his shirt. 

“I am lucky. I have you.”

Spot’s movements halted and his gaze remained on his lap, but Race could see the stutter in his breaths, the pink rising to his cheeks. Race smiled, tilting his head to get Spot to look at him as the seconds ticked by. 

“You’re a sap, Racetrack Higgins,” Spot shook his head and before Race could reply, Spot captured his lips, a hand cupping Race’s cheek. 

Race could feel himself melt, memorizing the touches of Spot. He savored these moments, but he lived for so much more. As different as they were, their hearts were one in the same, a bond shared beyond the passing of time.

“Says the one with the doll,” Race teased when they finally pulled apart, still hovering in Spot’s space no thanks to the hand still holding his face. 

“Says the one with the blanket,” Spot shot back, tapping Race’s cheek with his fingers. 

Race smiled, wide and proud as he moved away, tugging his cap onto his head. “I’ll show it to you next time you stay in Manhattan. It’s a nice soft green and everything.”

Spot hummed in amusement, throwing on the rest of his clothes before the two headed out of the lodging house. The whispers and stares had dispersed long ago, leaving Spot and Race to their business as they bought their papers. It was there they would go their separate ways, Race to Sheepshead, Spot to the docks. 

Race knew Spot was watching as they split up and he put on a show, hopping a little as he walked down the street, whistling one of Medda’s new tunes. 

Another one of Spot’s secrets had been revealed to him, his heart as light as the sun’s rays as he tapped his shoes on the street. Race would learn all there was to Spot some day and it was all right with him if they took their time. After all, he could hear Spot’s steps run up behind him, caught his stoic stare out of the corner of his eye. 

They were kids in love and really, what more could they ask of each other?

**Author's Note:**

> one of these days i'll write something other than sprace i'm sure
> 
> [Chumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


End file.
